Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series by Maree Anderson Page B

Mickey on the bench, and the two of them eyed Danbur like hunting hawks. “So if I were you, I’d tell her,” Max said.
    “Headache,” Danbur said.
    Mickey narrowed her gaze at him. “And?”
    Sweet Mother of all Gods. One glance from this woman would cow even the rowdiest carousers celebrating victory after a skirmish. “My belly pains me. Not merely from lack of food.”
    “Better give the doc a ring.” Max rose from his seat.
    “No. The Healer has done enough this night. I will feel much improved once I break my fast.” Danbur shoved a forkful of stew into his mouth and lowered his gaze to his plate. The stew was delicious—rich, savory and well-seasoned. The small round green things he recognized as some sort of legume. But he wasn’t at all certain about the mound of smooth, cream-colored stuff sitting on his plate. He dug his fork into the mound and scooped up a dollop to sniff. Hmm. Smelled harmless enough.
    “Mashed potatoes,” Mickey said. “With plenty of butter, a little whole milk, and salt and pepper. Taste even better if you swipe ’em through the gravy.”
    Danbur sampled the mashed potatoes unadulterated. Delicious. And then he did as Mickey had suggested, and swiped another scoop through the gravy. An appreciative moan eked from his lips.
    He glanced up and caught Mickey grinning at him. “Gotta love a man who appreciates a home-cooked meal.”
    “I have never tasted anything quite like this,” Danbur said. “’Tis a meal fit for a Lord Keeper.”
    “I take it he’s someone real important?”
    “Indeed.”
    Mickey beamed. “You and me are gonna get along just fine, Danbur.”
    Max poured some of the amber liquid from the bottle into the empty tumbler, and pushed it across to Danbur. “Apple juice,” he said. “Non-alcoholic. We don’t allow liquor on the premises. Or drugs. If we catch you with either, you’re out. No second chances. Understand?”
    Danbur didn’t understand what was meant by “drugs” but he got the general idea. “I understand.”
    “Good. Now eat up while I find you a change of clothes.” Max snagged the bag of clothing before he left the room. Mickey stayed right where she was. Observing Danbur minutely.
    He ignored both her and the stabbing pains in his belly as he cleaned his plate. The pains were irritating but no worse than a cracked rib. Far more important was getting the sustenance he required to remain functioning. He sampled the juice, and to his delight found it sweet and cold. The large boxlike contraption must be some form of cooler.
    When he’d drained the tumbler he rose to take his plate and cutlery to the counter.
    “There’s more if you’re hungry.”
    Mickey had propped her elbows on the tabletop and rested her chin on her cupped hands. Only now did Danbur notice the bluish smudges from lack of sleep bruising the skin beneath her eyes.
    “Thank you, but this was more than sufficient.” A lie, but until he knew the cost of such generosity it behooved him to eat sparingly. “You should do as Max suggested and seek your bed.”
    He turned his attention to the basin. The configuration of this spigot differed to those in the bathing room of Sera’s house. He experimented and was rewarded with a gush of lukewarm water.
    “Dishwash liquid’s in the plastic bottle beside the faucet,” Mickey said.
    Danbur found a stopper to plug the hole in the basin. He dispensed a generous squirt of the viscous green liquid beneath the running water and uttered a bark of surprise at the foamy suds that formed. Hastily he shut off the water. It seemed wasteful to use such a precious commodity for cleaning but doubtless Mickey’s reaction would be…
interesting
if he asked for sand to scour the plate.
    He used the clean rag draped over the spigot to wash his plate and eating utensils, and set them on the counter to dry. The ritual of cleaning up after a meal was familiar—though trainees would have
volunteered
for cooking and cleaning duties if